we may not perfect, but darling we're beautiful
by sallydurant
Summary: They weren't a couple, they were poetry.
1. Chapter 1

The first time they kissed they were standing in the rain, and how much more cliché can you get than that?

It was a Saturday and they were sitting in the park, under a big tree, quietly next to each other. Grantaire was lazily sketching something that looked like a cross between a garden and a building and a flower _(Well, at least it was something.)_, occasionally taking a sip from his flask. Jehan was similarly idly braiding flowers into his long, auburn, braid, and lazing in evening.

The first drops of water didn't bother them. Grantaire was too immersed in his 'whatever' sketch and Jehan simply didn't care. Only when the rain started to fall steadily did they really begin to notice. Grantaire threw his sketchpad on the wet ground in defeat. He could try to salvage it later.

Jehan stood up and ran out of the partial shelter. He spun around, water began to soak his clothes and hair, and he giggled for the first time for the day. Grantaire looked on amused.

"The sky is dark and gloomy, and we're basically sitting prey to the common cold." Grantaire smirked, although he made no move to get up. "Is this what makes you poets happy?"

"Dance with me." He held his hand out.

"There's no music." Grantaire replied, even as he took Jehan's hand and raised himself up.

"An artist without an imagination? How terrible!"

Grantaire grinned and twirled him into his arms. It started out as a fun idea, they spun each other around, and Grantaire did complicated tricks that left Jehan winded, as they laughed.

The rain around them fell harder, and the grass started to turn muddy. The air between them thickened as they moved slowly together; Jehan's arms around Grantaire's neck and Grantaire's arms around Jehan's waist.

It was Jehan who made the first move towards him. He didn't look scared or nervous; he looked sure. He tiptoed up to him and kissed him soundly on the mouth. It took Grantaire a bit before he could respond. He moved his hands from his waist to the back of his head, and pulled him deeper into the kiss.

What started out slow and gentle soon turned rough. Their tongues were clashing, and their hands were bruising as they tangled in each other's hair. Jehan's braid loosened, and dead flowers fell to the earth. _("They went back home." Jehan would later say)_ At this pointed they were soaked to the bone, but neither of them cared.

They finally pulled away from each other. Grantaire was uncertain. He tried to gauge how Jehan felt, but the poet gave nothing away. Instead he pulled Grantaire back into another kiss, his hands gently brushing his cheek. Before it was all passion and emotions running high. This kiss was reassurance, and Grantaire sank into it willingly.

"Your mouth tastes like whiskey, and it is intoxicating. I am like an addict and I never want to stop." Jehan mumbled these words against his lips, a small smile forming.

"Then don't." He replied.

And their mouths met again.


	2. Tell Me We'll Never Get Used To It

Jehan loved Grantaire more than anything. It was how he worked. He felt emotions so deeply that when he fell, he couldn't fall any other way but hard, and he fell for Grantaire a long time ago.

And with love, there's faith, and trust, and an overwhelming desire for security.

And then of course there comes the doubt.

Now Jehan was a believer by nature. Doubt didn't come to him as easily as it did to Grantaire. It was like a festering rot, gnawing away at his brain, making him rethink his every move, his every decision and second guess himself at every corner. It wasn't something that fitted him well.

* * *

Jehan hesitated at the door of Grantaire's bedroom. Grantaire was lying on the bed with his eyes shut and there was an empty bottle of wine on the floor. Jehan sighed, entered the room and sat on the edge of the bed. They'd just gotten back from their excursion at the park and they were both knackered, but Jehan wanted to talk. He wanted to talk about what happened, their kiss, them, and he also wanted to pretend it never happened and not ruin an amazing friendship.

"Your mum's expecting you back tonight." Grantaire murmured, pulling him out of his reverie.

"Yes she is. She's always very nervous about letting me stay here sometimes, but she trusts you." Jehan said as he curled into the side of his friend...boyfriend...kissing friend...

"Well if my kid spent so much time in the flat of an alcoholic, good-for-nothing that was damaged enough to successfully get independence from his parents I'd be concerned too."

"They have nothing to be worried about."

"You would say that." Grantaire looked down at him fondly.

More cautiously than the first time, he lifted his face to Grantaire's and kissed him softly on the mouth.

"Are we...going to do this a lot?" Grantaire asked as Jehan pulled away.

"Yes." Jehan nodded decidedly. "Yes we are."

"Good," Grantaire replied. "Because your mouth is-."

"Shut up, you're ruining the mood."

Grantaire mimed zipping his lips, and Jehan settled back on his chest.

* * *

When Jehan woke up from his nap, he saw a piece of paper on the stand next to him. He grinned as he read it, and put it in his jeans pocket.

I lift the glass to my mouth, I look at you, and I sigh.

He made no mention of it when he saw Grantaire in the living area. He just pressed a small kiss to his cheek and told him he'd see him later.

* * *

Jehan showed up to school Monday in a flowery blouse and a long flowing white skirt. There was no longer an uproar when he dressed like this – The first time he came to school in a dress he was sent home. The second time his parents were called in. The third time his parents threatened the school with a lawsuit since his clothing met every standard set by the school's dress code. – but he did get a lot of nasty looks. The looks never bothered him. He would just glare right back until the person became uncomfortable and looked away.

In any case he wasn't in the best mood today. He didn't have the time to call Grantaire that morning, but his mind still wandered back to that line ever so often. It assuaged some of his doubt and to be quite honest, but today was just one of those days where everything and everyone bothered him.

He floated to his locker in a haze that was only slightly diminished when he saw Courfeyrac standing there with an apologetic look on his face.

"I'm not mad at you." Was the first thing to come out of Jehan's mouth.

Courfeyrac looked relieved but still wary. He fished around in his pocket before handing him an envelope. "Grantaire sent this for you? I have no idea what's in it I promise, but you know that saying about not killing the messenger? It'd do well right now. Granted R did say this would make you forgive me faster but-"

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk a lot?" Jehan asked sighing at his friends natural frenzy.

"Nope. Never. And by never I mean every day." He grinned cheekily. Jehan, who had grown sombre since entering the school ground, cracked a tiny smile.

"Thank you Courf, you're a paragon of good faith and wisdom for dropping this letter unscathed."

"Yeah. I know." Courfeyrac sighed, with a tiny grin. He gave Jehan a quick hug before rushing off to his study group.

Jehan shook his head and huffed a tiny smile before opening the envelope. Inside it was a tiny piece of paper with harried writing that read:

I can scarcely measure the sky's most spacious eyes, and I lean down to your mouth to kiss the earth.

* * *

2 months later

"You know don't have to keep quoting poetry at me." Jehan said conversationally as they sat by their spot in the park, under the tree. This was the first time any of them acknowledged the existence of the poems to each other even though Grantaire had given him somewhere around fifty throughout the duration of their relationship. "I'm already smitten with you."

"That's no reason for me to stop wooing you. This isn't just me trying to keep my man Scheherazade style." Grantaire grinned. He put down his sketchpad and turned to his boyfriend. "You're something special Prouvaire. You deserve flowers and poetry and big gestures, but instead you have me. So I'm going to compliment you, and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, and kiss you until you feel like I've sufficiently given you Type A Diabetes, or perhaps clinical depression since I have that tendency to get morbid. Then again so do you, right little bird?"

Jehan rolled his eyes and smiled at him; one of his blinding smiled that felt like he was giving light to an otherwise dark and dreary world. Grantaire couldn't help but to capture his lips with his own. Their mouths moved slowly and languidly, and they just sat there trading lazy kisses until Grantaire pulled away and mumbled on his lips.

"Because he's sunrise and I see, Therefore then I love thee."

"I love you too."

* * *

Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.  
These, our bodies, possessed by light.  
Tell me we'll never get used to it

* * *

AN: The title is from Siken's Scheherazade, which...obviously


End file.
